At times.

In the recesses of the mind
there are places I travel
that are sometimes heavy and blue-grey.

It is not for lack of joy or contentment.
I have no hidden darkness or
mourning heart.

Only ever so often it comes in like a fog,
making it difficult to remember the sun.

I am not speaking of the bleakness of depression
or unending nights of hopelessness.
These are real battles and not to be treated lightly by anyone.

I refer simply to that weight that comes from seeking...
from being a glimpse catcher.
Whether it's words or notes or paint strokes,
the discipline of artistry has many price tags.

One of them being a melancholy mist every now and again.

We are taught from childhood to continuously fight the elements.
Put on a coat.
Wear a hat.
Bring an umbrella.

But these times of weary weather have their outcomes.
So I find it best to just let it pass. Wear a sweater.
And bring a pen.

Amelia.

What strange, beauty is this?
That the promise of you, mere inches from my eyes
can turn my gaze ages forward,
so that an entire lifetime
sits hovering above my lap.

There lies one thousand joys and defeats,
all floating in a golden, misty haze.
They are blurred, but they are there.

I do not regard myself a prophet in any sense of the term,
but I cannot deny this skyline of visions.

So if I speak any future truth about our souls, know this.
That you held this heart
long before these arms ever held you.

Shiny Thoughts on Leadership.

My husband is so flipping smart.
I adore him.
His love for the Lord is so evident in what he does.
One area I have really seen God mold him through his job and schooling, is in the area of leadership.
Tonight kicked off the high school monthly series on the topic, and these were the main points that I found myself challenged and encouraged by. The structure and some of the words of the lesson looked a little different from this, but here is what his word-loving wife took from it.

"It doesn't take an ounce of talent to be a critic.
Anyone can point a finger or find a flaw."
The true leaders are the learners. The ones who know how little they actually know.

Conversely, the masses are masters of everything.
while simultaneously never experiencing anything.

They never suffer loss, because they never take a risk.
And they think that's what makes them great.
But a perfect track record isn't what people are looking for.

What makes a leader different from the crowd?
The leap. The unknown.
It's always the risk itself that builds respect.

Far better is it to stumble through life a bold and inquiring student,
than to be a self-proclaimed expert
with nothing but a portfolio of other people's shortcomings and failed attempts.

Don't forget that the majority of people want to be led. They want to be taken on a journey or be a part of great change...even if they never openly admit it.

But if you're never humble enough to seek counsel, (Proverbs 9:10-12)
never empathetic enough to understand the view of another, (1 Peter 3:8-9)
and never filled with enough integrity to gain respect, (1 Timothy 3:1-2)
then you'll never have a leg to stand on.

And if you don't have a leg to stand on,
you certainly won't be leading anyone to anywhere epic at anytime soon.

Facing the Music.

It struck me recently that when given opportunities to write about anything I please..how much of a strain imagination is to me now. When did that muscle become so flabby? I cringe when I wave and the skin beneath my arms waves back at me. Obviously, this has never been a sought after beauty trend, and I am troubled. But when I sit and stare at a page and discover a weak and jiggly mind... I am haunted. I would take all the waving arms in the world in exchange for a strong creative spirit.

Fortunately for those of us in this state, the cure is as droll and routine as any other physical work out. You set the goals, you do the daily tasks, you stretch and there are lots of liquids. And it's just at the moment when you think that none of those disciplines have made a hair of difference, you wake up one morning and find that it is all fun again. That you can see yourself. Not the thirty-something-receptionist you drinking day old coffee with flabby arms, but the little-girl-clutching-her note-pad-and-bug-collection you. And SHE is the one that can see flying bears and talking trees with no strain at all. And the dancing daisies with their smiling faces tell her, "See, we were here all along, buried under the weight of years of hibernation and all of your grown-uppityness. Welcome back. Now let's run wild now, please."

Heavenly Mysteries.

You are the God that never changes.
Yet you are always on the move.

You are steadfast to the heavens.
Yet living waters to my soul.

You tell me no sin of mine is tallied.
Yet each tear that falls has a count and every hair on my head is numbered.

You are my rock. A mighty fortress. An ever present shield about me.
Yet they call you balm of Gilead. Rose of Sharon. The pearl of great price.

What science is this?
A shield or roses.
A fortress of pearls.
The Cornerstone...that bled.

Lion and Lamb.

Lord and Friend.

Judge and Savior.

You are an eternal enigma in my mind...
Yet a never ending comfort to my heart.

Because you are God.
Without border or definition.
The unified dichotomy.
The living mystery that came to dwell among us

and be known.

You are I AM.

And what I do not understand while asleep on this earth,
I shall have a life time to learn when I awake in Glory.

The Recycling Bin

Things pin-balling around in my brain with no place to go other than here:

This summer there are a lot of fireflies.
More than usual it seems.
I'm not hating it.
It makes watering plants at night
seem like I am watering stars.
***

Be warned.
Anything that says "slimming" on the clothing tag,
does not mean slim through elimination.
That extra cushioning gots to go somewhere, girlfriend.
So make sure you find where it makes its new home
before you hypothetically purchase something without trying it on
and hypothetically take it to a family trip to the dells,
where you hypothetically discover that your nieces or nephews will not
need any flotation devices in the pool.
You do the math.
****

Was talking to a mom at a graduation party.
She was saying how in America, even our toys have toys.
I thought that sounded like a good article.
So I told her that.
Then I told her she should write it.
Which is why I don't have too much more to add onto the subject.
*****

Planting things really makes you appreciate nature.
Yep. It's great.
But it also simultaneously makes you loathe the outdoors at the same time.
For example, I now consider any of these things below my arch nemesis(s):

Rabbits.
Any variety of plant eating bug.
Birds.
Spiders. (Ok, let's be real, I've always hated these).
Lack of rain.
Too much rain.
Peeing dogs.
Clay.
Creeping Charlie.
Dandelions.
Ivy. (That stuff just doesn't quit).
Sandy soil.
And chipmunks.
Just to name a few.
Ahhh gardening. That emotional time of year when you find yourself exclaiming,
"Oh it's so pretty!" and "Die, jerks, Die!" in the same breath.
******

Tips and tricks Pinterest will probably never teach you.

Ironing Boards:
Ain't nobody got time for that.
Sometimes a girls just gotta iron her shirt...
while the shirt is on.

Another use for palate wood:
Bonfires.

How to save time polishing silver:
Don't buy real silver.
*******

At some point in life, I started to become more comfortable
with those silent moments in conversation.
I used to think that as long as two people were always talking,
then it meant that you were always connecting.
And if you weren't, the silence was saying, "hey...something is awkward and off here..."
So I'd try to fill those gaps at all times, never wanting to be awkward or off with someone.
But how silly it is to think that any broken banter automatically equates broken relationships.
Silences can also say,
"Hey, when I'm with you, I am able to rest. Thanks for that."

Salamander Prayers.

Tonights classical radio station transitioned into a cello ensemble through a brief debut of the sciences. They stated that there are some newts and salamanders that hear with their lungs. They then compared this to skill of listening to music. Some compositions, they said, don't need to be heard through the auditory science of hammer, anvil, and stirrup. Rather, that some music can be taken in by breath, the richness of a melody brought into ones very being...

I know. I get it. It's the type of statement that if said out loud at a dinner table could come across as either extremely uppity... or just plain dumb.
However, regardless of my caution towards overly pretentious statements...
I find that I cannot escape the desire to have this "lung listening" be true of me.

So I am praying for something similar tonight...

Oh Lord, let this strange phenomenon be lived in me each hour. May I breathe you in as often as I do the air, and with each inhale, hear your unending symphony of promises-the bedrocks on which I have come to "live and move and have my being.